Darkest Snow
by Noah Hunter
Summary: Kylar finds himself in Italy on a job to kill a man known as Bailey Varese. While on his job, he meets up with the assassin called Ezio. -spoilers for the first book in the night angel trilogy-
1. Chapter 1

**(Warning: Spoilers for the Way of Shadows)**

Assassin's Creed II/The Way of Shadows

Ezio x Azoth/Kylar

DARKEST SNOW

"_There are moments when, even to the sober eye of Reason, the world of our sad Humanity may assume the semblance of a Hell-" [Edgar Allan Poe; the Premature Burial]_

Ch. 1

He had heard rumours of the assassin in white, but had never seen him for himself. From what Kylar had been told upon his arrival in Italy that spring, for as long as the beautiful country was alive there had been assassins and that unlike the ones back home in Midcyru their garbs were white. To be brutally honest, Kylar's first impression of the assassins in this foreign land was that they had to be arrogant. Everything he had learned from Master Blint about blending into the shadows seemed absent; nonexistent. It confused, irritated and fascinated him. To think that whoever these people were, despite the certain lack of camouflage, they were still very effective; never missing their mark.

For an entire day, Kylar found himself walking the streets of Florence, taking on their guise; their fluid speech, everything to make him blend into his surroundings. He would ask merchants and nobles, thieves and beggars, anyone he could seek out, without making a scene, what they could tell him about a certain someone he was here for.

"Bailey Varese?" A merchant mused as he handed a passing customer a loaf of bread. "I'm sorry. I haven't seen him in days. They say he has come down with the flu and has been bed ridden."

"I see. Well, then, thank you for your help." Kylar nodded his thanks and headed off towards the center of the city, hoping to find out more about his target in its bustling core.

Bailey Varese. He was the reason Kylar Stern had come so far as Italy. It wasn't every day a wetboy was made to go so far from his continent, so Kylar gladly took the job. Apparently, Bailey Varese was a wealthy duke who had stolen contributions to the church back in Midcyru and had fled to Florence in hopes of never being found out. However, when one of the monks had come to find the donations box empty, he had come asking for Durzo Blint's help. It came as no surprise to the now 21 year old assassin that his master had refused for lack of payments, but Kylar had purposefully agreed to the job and after countless looks of doubt from Blint, found himself on a boat to Italy.

Kylar sat on a low stone wall overlooking the sea as he ate an apple he had bought just moments ago. "I wonder how Master Blint is doing." As the crystalline waves glided across the shoreline he wondered if the elder wetboy even acknowledged that he was gone.

It was then; something in his peripheral vision caught his attention. It was a man no doubt, walking with a bold and focused gate. Kylar hid his heightened curiosity once he spotted what this stranger was wearing. White! He looked as someone of the church; an angel perhaps. Despite the danger in the air, Kylar had to follow the man; had to know how he worked, how he brought down his prey. As quietly as shadows followed their masters, Kylar pursued.

The white assassin led them through the backstreets of the city of Florence, each one seemingly darker than the next. Kylar noted that the sun was now beginning its decent on the horizon. It would be dark soon. Maybe this assassin did use the night as a cover, but then again even in the darkest of nights, such glorious attire as his would stand out. Silently Kylar kept his pace with the man, taking care not to kick at any lose stones on the old streets they now walked. He was becoming impatient, but every trained sense in his body knew what would be coming soon. Finally, as they came to a small crossroads, a man was waiting. His slightly armoured guards held they're spears and swords at ready.

"You knew it would come to this." The assassin spoke. The deep tones which made up his voice rang into Kylar's ears and he promised to never forget the sound. It was calm, demanding and had a deep underlying sympathy that many would be unable to hear.

The victim, Kylar saw, was a noble who looked to be in his early 30s and not much taller than himself, but still much shorter than the assassin. His dark eyes looked as if he were facing Old Grim himself.

"If you want to kill me, you'll have to get pass my guards devil!" He spat, quickly turning to flee back down the cobblestone paths.

"My pleasure," was the simple promise that followed.

The struggle didn't last long. The 3 guards that were hired to keep the nobleman safe were quickly incapacitated and no sooner had they been killed than the young noble also met his fate. Kylar crouched in the looming shadow of a large structure, his blue eyes taking in the sure power that this man possessed. At first, the unorthodox strategy of revealing himself to his deader made Kylar think this man insane, but the way he fought, the way no one had come running to see what the commotion was; Kylar was awestricken.

"Was that good enough for you?"

Kylar jumped to his feet, trying to put a fair distance between him and the assassin. He had just allowed his attention to stray once, but it was always in that one opening that the arrow would pierce through. Even with all the insane training he had had to suffer through in his master's care, Kylar still had a long way to go. The younger shot the man a look of disdain.

A smirk played across the man's face. "I figured you were no ordinary guy." He spoke, that languid voice washing over Kylar like a refreshing waterfall. "What's your name?"

Kylar raised an eyebrow suspiciously. "Kylar Stern." He replied, trying to keep a strict face.

The elder assassin stepped closer. Kylar could feel the man's gaze from beneath his white cowl and, for the first time in ages, Kylar felt uneasy.

"Are you going to ask for mine, Kylar?"

Kylar looked up and saw that the man was now only a few feet from him. It reminded him of the time he had first encountered Durzo Blint in the Warrens, only the strong scent of garlic that his master was known for was absent here, replaced by something Kylar couldn't quite pinpoint. Had Kylar landed himself in the same predicament as Azoth once had? If this man really wanted to kill him, he would have done it by now. Wouldn't he?

The young assassin narrowed his eyes at the advancing stranger. "Okay. Then what do they call you?" Kylar admitted to himself that he did want to know the identity of the being. He waited.

"You may call me Ezio. The rest you may learn in time if you wish."

In time? So he wasn't going to kill him. Kylar let a silent sigh of relief stray from his lips, but couldn't hide the confusion on his features. Ezio saw this and smirked.

"I only kill who I have to." He told him. "So, unless you've done something unforgivable yourself or were hired to kill me, which I highly doubt, then you've nothing to worry about." He placed a gloved hand on Kylar's head and patted him as he would an obedient dog.

Kylar awed at the contact. "So you knew."

"I knew."

_ _ _

The next morning, Kylar awoke in his room at the inn. Outside, the sun was shining and birds chirruped carelessly in the trees. He sat up and stretched, allowing the warm sunlight to caress his skin and breathed in the crisp clean air. In this life, the rancid stench of the Warrens was all but forgotten. But then, that life didn't belong to him anymore. He was no longer Azoth and that past was no longer his to remember.

Kylar ran an unsure hand through his bleached hair. All that night his dreams had been of the assassin called Ezio. None of which made much sense. First he had appeared to be human, then as he killed the man the night he had met him, Ezio seemed to take the form of a shadow. Then there was the dream where Kylar found himself backed against an outer wall, standing in a dark alley while a white mist bearing the same intoxicating smirk as the elder assassin held him there. Was it an omen? Ezio looked the angel, but he knew that devil's often took such guises. He sighed and climbed out of bed ignoring what messages his dreams sought to deceive him with. Kylar had to find the assassin, if only just to see him.

As he exited the inn, Kylar felt a hand on his shoulder. His heart stopped as he whirled around to face whoever it was who had snuck up on him.

"Ezio," The shock in his blue eyes faded and he scowled up at the man.

He was smirking again. "Not happy to see me?"

Kylar felt the blood rush to his cheeks. "N-no-it's just…I was just-"

"Anyway," the elder assassin cut him off, trying to save the boy some embarrassment. "If you're looking for Bailey Varese, I have something you might want."

The younger blinked; taken off-guard. How did he know who he was looking for? "And…"

A small chuckle escaped the man's lips. "You're not getting it that easily. I had to give up the rest of my last wages to get this information. You're going to work for it like every other hard-working wetboy."

Kylar narrowed his eyes. "I don't need your help. He's sick. All I have to do is off him in his sleep."

"You sound so sure of his condition."

The mockery in Ezio's voice got Kylar's attention. "All the people I've talked to have said the same thing."

"And that is what they believe." He began thoughtfully. "But sometimes you have to feed a dog to make him roll over."

Overhead, gulls were heard, their ivory wings carrying them across the bay. The wind blew, rustling the leaves between the two men and cutting through what would have been a profound and edgy silence. Kylar needed whatever information he could get so that he could do his job. But now another obstacle arose.

He bit his lip resentfully. "What do you want for it?" This man was really starting to pull at his nerves.

Ezio took a few steps closer, closing the distance between them. He loomed over the younger, arrogant smirk never faltering from his handsome face. His voice was soft, but serious as he spoke. "I want you to be more perceptive and not to get yourself killed. Wetboy or not, you've still a long way to go before you reach my level and I don't want your potential to go to waste."

Kylar's expression soured. Was he insulting him? "That's it?" He queried.

"That is it." The assassin answered flatly, straightening. "Now for the fun part," A glint of humour entered Ezio's eyes. "The duke is not sick by any means. Quite the contrary; he stays in his manor alive and well and if you plan to get to him you'll have ten guards on your hands." He paused for effect. "He will run. He is in the perfect position for that. And if he runs he will get away. Bailey Varese is cunning and outsmarting a kid like you would be a walk in the park for him."

"He sounds desperate." Kylar mused, his curiosity sparked.

Ezio nodded. "Most men are. They do what they want and are too afraid to face the consequences. That is why there are assassins. We live because without us there is no justice."

_ _ _

**(Hopefully that was okay seeing as it's my first fic concerning Ezio and/or Kylar. Thanks for reading. Comment if ya want.)**


	2. Chapter 2

Ch. 2

The first part had been simple. Due to the generous information given to him by Ezio, Kylar was able to pinpoint Varese's manor so he could pay him a little visit. Kylar knew it wouldn't be as easy as he had initially hoped once he arrived. Coming up on the manor, standing proudly in the midst of the afternoon sun, the young wetboy could see a handful of the guards that Ezio had warned him about. But Kylar wasn't dumb. He knew the tricks he had to pull to get what he wanted. That had been among his many lessons with Durzo Blint. _Don't hesitate. Do what you have to; to make sure the job is done. _

With confident steps, Kylar met the two guards standing at the manor's door.

"Is Master Bailey in?" He spoke as if he were an old friend. "I heard he was sick and wanted to pay him my regards."

One of the guards shifted. His gruff voice unwavering. "Master Varese has made it clear to turn all visitors away."

Kylar had figured something of the sort would be said, so he protruded a small vial from a leather purse hanging around his waist and held it up to the men. The clear contents glimmered faintly in the sunlight. It was nothing more than sugar mixed with water; a placebo, fake, but that was the trick.

"It's medicine. I knew Master Bailey back in Midcyru. I'm sure he'd make an exception."

The guards looked at each other. Kylar could feel the unsure air that hovered between them. It was quite possible that even the guards didn't know of Bailey Varese's true state.

"Your name,"

"William Landaus," He lied.

"Master Landaus, we will let you in." The other guard announced. "Come with me." He motioned for Kylar to follow him as he opened the gate. Kylar bowed to the other man gracefully before following his guide into the manor.

Once inside, Kylar saw the full extent of the manor's lavish interior. There was no way Varese could afford such décor in his position. The young assassin's mind raced through his preparations and all the scenarios that might very well play out while attempting to achieve his goal. But he knew what it took to get the job done. Kylar knew this; as did Azoth.

It wasn't long before the guard led Kylar up a winding flight of stairs and stopped in front of an elaborate door. He knocked three times and waited.

"Yes? What is it?"

"Master Varese. There is a young master Landaus here to see you." The guard answered resolutely. "He claims to have brought medication with him to help you to recover."

Kylar waited patiently as locks were unlatched from the other side of the door. The door opened and Bailey Varese poked his head out. His grey eyes fell on Kylar and he straightened, forcing a cough. "You don't look like a doctor."

Kylar smiled genially. "I am sorry to bother you Master Bailey, but I had heard you were ill so I brought it upon myself to bring you this." Again he took out the tiny vial of crystal liquid.

Varese held a suspicious air. It came as no surprise to the young wetboy, given the circumstances and the price on his head. "I find it strange you'd help a stranger." He said rather coldly.

Kylar's smile never faltered. "We have met." He replied. "We met in Midcyru. Though I'm sure you don't remember me in your current state. I see you as sort of an idle; all you've done for the people and all." It wasn't one of his best lies, but the look on Varese's face meant it was working nonetheless. Such a gullible man.

The door soon opened to reveal a man in his early thirties. Kylar recognized the lanky stature, dark hair and tanned features as a trait from his old homeland, but the luxurious white clothes he wore foretold of fortune. He bowed his head to Varese, holding the vial within reach. Varese stepped aside to usher him in.

"Guard the door." He ordered his guard before closing the door behind them.

The room turned out to be a small bed-chamber; just as Kylar had suspected. The walls were scarcely decorated, but the luxury of the finely printed patterns on the bed's headboard and the obvious expense of the white lace curtains was still alive here. It was impressive how egotistical this man was about his belongings, especially given the fact his funds came from an illegal source. Regardless, Kylar hid his disgust with ease and turned to the man.

"You look a bit pale." He began, feigning concern. "Please lay down. It would suit you best." He put a hand on Varese's shoulder, which was promptly pushed away.

"What did you say your name was again?" Varese asked, still a bit apprehensive.

Kylar didn't lose a beat. "William Landaus. Please don't try too hard. I had come up to you in a tavern and you looked to have been drinking heavily so I wouldn't hold it against you if you did not remember me."

He had known very well that Bailey Varese loved his ale, so forging a story around that would be nothing less than credible. The young wetboy made again the motion for the elder man to lie down, which Varese finally obliged to. Kylar smiled.

_ _ _

The rest of Kylar's visit with Varese went by without a hitch. They talked as if they were old friends, commenting on foreign politics (of which Kylar owed his thanks to Momma K) and comparing Italy's living conditions to that of Midcyru. Varese also spoke of an inventor named Leonardo da Vinci. Kylar thought silently about attaining one of the man's famed flying machines before he returned to his own country. Something like that would prove useful on some occasions where the target was in a hard spot to simply climb to.

Kylar pretended to just realize the position of the sun sinking below the horizon beyond Varese's window.

"I'm very sorry, but I must get going." He spoke, accenting a solemn note in his voice.

Varese patted the wetboy's hand fondly. "Very well, but you will have to come by tomorrow. I miss the company."

Kylar nodded and gave the man his parting sentiments before exiting. Keeping the role of William, Kylar made his way down the staircase, back down the hall and out of the manor. Once the building was out of sight, he fell back into Kylar's shoes.

_ _ _

He took his time returning to the inn. The sun had already disappeared and the stars sparkled like precious gems above him as he strode down the backstreets of Florence, Italy. Since the very moment Kylar had arrived here, he knew that things would be different; the people, the culture, everything. He found himself thinking about Ezio again. Lately the elder assassin occupied the wetboy's mind more than he would care to admit. But Ezio wasn't what he was here for. What Kylar was here for was to kill Bailey Varese. Now another thought came to mind. During the chat with his deader, Kylar had noticed a subtle underlying tone that hinted at more than Kylar had hoped for. Something in the way Varese looked at him which would have made Azoth uneasy.

"If that's the case," Kylar thought, mulling over the idea, "then I might be able to use it to my advantage."

A light shuffling caught his attention, but he made the effort not to look for the source. Kylar knew from where it had come even without seeing him. Casually, Kylar entered the inn, climbed the short staircase and entered the tiny room he had rented.

Ezio stood in the entrance behind him, leaning against the doorframe.

"You met with Varese today." It wasn't a question.

Kylar straightened a pillow on the bed and sat down, facing the man. "Yes. I met with him today. Now I know how to kill him." A small smile betrayed his otherwise collected demeanor.

The elder assassin quirked an eyebrow, amused. "Oh? And how is that?"

"Simple." Kylar stood from the bed and strode decisively over to the man. He angled his head upwards to look into Ezio's dark knowing eyes, his expression innocent; like that of a child's. The look of a killer all but dispersed. "I seduce him."

A profound guffaw erupted from the elder assassin. "You jest boy."

Kylar grit his teeth. "I do not _jest_." He pressed himself closer to Ezio in an attempt to convince the man that he meant every word. When Ezio caught on he placed a hand on the young wetboy's head.

"You are an assassin." He spoke, his voice oddly soothing. "Not some low-priced wench. And believe me, I know the difference." Carefully, Ezio let his hand run through Kylar's bleach blonde tresses.

For a moment, Kylar felt a warm wave wash over him as the taller man pet him. His heart was beating at twice its normal pace, his stomach felt as if it was doing flips and the young wetboy felt his temperature rise. This wasn't the effects of any poison. He knew the feeling, if only briefly. He remembered it entwined with the fading image of Doll Girl. But she was no longer a part of Kylar's life. The young girl, her scarred face a constant reminder of a past long since elapsed, did not belong with Kylar. She wasn't even fit for Azoth. But here in front of him, Kylar Stern, those phantom feelings began to flare up again in the most unlikely of places.

Kylar heaved a shaky sigh and finally pulled away from the comforting warmth that was Ezio.

"I have to do this." He looked down, the dusty hardwood floors becoming much more interesting. "You have to do what you have to; to make sure the job is done."

He never thought he'd be quoting Durzo Blint in a situation like this. The words seemed to flow from him of their own accord. He could see his master's face as the declaration hung in the air surrounding them, could almost smell the thick scent of garlic in those words. He knew there was no escaping them. Azoth had suffered the consequences of not taking them to heart. They were the binding contract that Kylar was forced to endure until the day he died.

Above him, Ezio grunted in distaste.

"I can see that nothing I say will persuade you otherwise." The hard deep tones of his voice reminded Kylar of the day they first met in the backstreets of the city. Kylar felt a pang of anger rise inside of him as Ezio turned to leave. "But if you go through with this, you will be killed."

"I'm not dense." Kylar growled at the retreating assassin. "You underestimate me."

There was a very distinct _hmph_, evidence of Ezio's lack of condolence. "I underestimate no one. If I did, I would be useless as an assassin. I would advise that you do the same, Kylar." And with that, he was gone.

_ _ _

**Hard chapter to write. _**


	3. Chapter 3

**(A/N: Eheh. This chapter was written after having a dream where I was Kylar. Actually this entire fan-fiction was based off that dream and I just decided to write it all down (although the descriptions are probably not as clear as the dream proved to be). If I had started the story here though, I'd probably be ducking tomatoes by the end of this chapter. *sweat drop* actually, there still might be a good chance I'm pretty much screwed for this. O_o Dun hurt meh!)**

_ _ _

Ch. 3

Azoth hit the floor of the boat shop hard. The dizzying pain as his head connected with the warped bow of a row boat almost made him retch. He felt large icy hands grab him from behind again, clutching his hair and wrenching his head upwards. The young boy wanted to cry out, but only a feeble squeak made any indication that he could still feel any pain. A red haze blurred his eyesight and he just barely avoided the gnarled wood of the boat again as he was forced onto his hands and knees.

"Glad you finally came to your senses." An all too familiar voice jeered from behind him. "I'd hate for all this to go to waste." A domineering hand slid from Azoth's chest down the contours of his stomach and around to his hip. Azoth shivered at the contact. He didn't want this, but if he didn't go through with it he would most assuredly be killed himself.

A scream ripped from Azoth's throat as the searing pain penetrated him.

Kylar bolted upright in bed, wrapping his arms around his knees to bring himself back to reality. It had only been a dream to Kylar, but to Azoth it was more real than could ever be admitted. It was something better left behind, just like everything else, but the young wetboy knew now that he could never truly forget. Could never disregard the day his new life began. The same day he killed his first victim.

Through Azoth's eyes, Kylar remembered the guild tyrant Rat all too well. It was because of him that his best friend Jarl was no longer the Jarl he once knew; the entire reason why Doll Girl had to bear twisted scars for the rest of her life. He was the reason for the nightmares that plagued Kylar to this day.

"I'll never forget what you did to me." Kylar muttered insufferably. "I hope they make you suffer the same way in Hell."

He climbed out of bed, albeit a bit unstable, and drew back the curtains. Through the window on his second floor room, Kylar looked down upon the streets. People were out and about, looking in shop windows, talking animatedly about anything and everything. At times Kylar envied those people; envied their simple conflicts, carefree mannerisms, and their freedom to love.

_Relationships are ropes._ _Love is a noose. _

Durzo Blint had engraved that phrase into Kylar's brain until he all but breathed it.

Kylar sighed, remembering the dispute he had had with Ezio last night.

_"But if you go through with this, you will be killed."_

Maybe he shouldn't have told Ezio of his plan. Maybe he should have kept his big mouth shut and just gone through with it. But there was something deep in Kylar's heart that made him need to confide in the man. Maybe he had silently hoped that Ezio would physically stop him from carrying out such a makeshift resolution.

He shook his head solemnly. It felt as if his heart would drop into his stomach.

"Relationships are ropes. Love is a noose." He recited, though he didn't know if he wanted to believe those words as strongly anymore.

One way or another, Kylar had to go through with this. He looked over the small assortment of weapons that he had brought along, laying each one gently out on the bed. The half sword was his favourite, but he knew it would surely be detected. Then there were the poisoned barbs and needles. Kylar had known Blint to use such methods, but the young wetboy couldn't risk being poisoned himself if things got a little heated. It was then his crystal-blue eyes fell upon a small vial, much like the one he had given Varese with the placebo. He picked it up to examine it. He hadn't remembered packing it. Tentatively, Kylar spun the tiny glass vial in his hand taking notice of the small amount of powder inside. He tipped it up and glanced underneath, finding a tiny label written in tiny almost-illegible script: Cantarella

So that's what it was. Kylar remembered Master Blint mentioning the poison during one of his many lessons. It was best known for putting the victim into a deep sleep; so deep that their heart rate would be completely undetectable. In other words: a false death.

"_But it does not kill." Durzo Blint snatched the vial from Kylar's hand. "Remember that, boy. After the deader has ingested it, the effects will wear off after 4 hours. But that doesn't give you reason to neglect your duties. That's why I'd rather you not use Cantarella unless it is your last resort. It has a reputation of leading to nothing but trouble."_

Another quick glance over his small assortment of artillery and it was clear what Kylar would need. The miniscule pin glinted menacingly in the early afternoon sun as he picked it up in the handkerchief it was kept in. It was no longer than half the length of Kylar's thumb and as thin as a pine needle; hardly a threat. However, being a wetboy, Kylar knew all the secrets, all the special quirks that made these seemingly harmless objects so deadly.

Poison.

Poison was always the answer in these situations. An assassin strove to do his job undetected. Combat weaponry was mainly only used if the kill had to be quick, or as Durzo Blint put it: The payments weren't worth wasting valuable materials.

Many other factors went into whether or not poison was a good component on a job, but Kylar didn't plan to think too much on the details. The Cantarella had surely been a gift from Blint and the needle could be tucked safely into his leather pouch until he needed it. That was all he needed to know.

_ _ _

Due to his frequent visitations to Varese's household, Kylar had become strategically acquainted with the building's layout. He had even figured out the times guards would switch duty and where the easiest entries were during their exchange. Kylar's best bet at the moment was a window on the first floor in the back. And it was no luck that, just as the wetboy had calculated the guards were switching over their shifts.

Quietly, Kylar snuck past the guards and climbed through the open window. It wasn't luck that the window was open either. Upon speaking with Varese, Kylar had learned that the man kept that particular window open until well pass sunset due to a westerly breeze he had become so fond of. He explained how it blew through the drawing room, creating a comfortable and alluring atmosphere for guests, as well as himself. However, Kylar's interest in such an idea was purely on the open window and how useful it would prove to his task.

Now that he was in the drawing room, Kylar made his way down a long hallway and towards the flight of stairs that he knew all too well. The interior of the home was easy enough to navigate. Most of the guards were positioned on the outside and there were no signs of servants. As hushed as a shadow, the young wetboy climbed the staircase until he got to the chamber awaiting him at the top. He tried the door, which opened easily, and slipped inside.

This was it. There was no turning back now. But even if that option were available, Kylar knew better than to take it. His duties as a wetboy forbade him to run; inhibited the notion of defeat to linger in his head. In this line of work, it was kill or be killed.

_The snake struck. Kylar barely had time to get out of the way before the serpentine body lunged forward, mere centimeters from his face. As the creature moved to strike again, Durzo Blint grabbed it just behind the head, his face unmoving. _

"_Do you know what this is, Kylar?"_

"_It's a white asp." Kylar replied a bit shaken. _

"_No," Blint corrected him. "It's the price of failure."_

Durzo Blint had used the white asp as a deadly reminder of what would happen if Kylar ever failed to do what was needed on a job. The young wetboy had learned to never take anything the elder man said with a grain of salt. The man was a feared assassin and meant every word that passed through his lips. Each harsh word he spoke hung in the air frozen in time, echoing off the people who were _lucky_ enough to hear them. No. Kylar knew better than to hesitate. Killing wasn't just an action, it had become a reflex.

Silently, the young wetboy sat on the floor at the foot of the four poster bed. It was a good position, seeing as how he could face the door. It was perfect because at the first sign of entry, Kylar could slip under the bed undetected. However, he would only hide if it were anyone but Varese. He wanted Varese to see him and in fact, knew all too well that the man would be delighted at such a surprise. Carefully, Kylar protruded the tiny vial of Cantarella from his leather pouch and popped the cork. He only needed the smallest amount. Proceeding to tap the fine powder into the palm of his hand, Kylar licked his index finger and dipped it in the powder. Once coated in the toxin, the wetboy cleverly ran his coated finger just below his bottom lip. Varese would never suspect.

Just then, as one speaks of the devil, the handle on the door turned and Varese stepped inside. He held a candle, which flickered violently as he set it on the vanity-table and he seemed harried for some reason or other. Kylar stood, purposefully making some noise to gain the man's attention. The sun cast hints of light through the high perched window; it was just enough for Varese to realize who it was.

"William." His otherwise strong voice broke like that of a young boy hitting puberty. "What are you doing here?"

_William_ smiled and took a few modest steps forward. "I thought I'd come see how you were." He lied. "You seem so much better today."

Varese chuckled softly. Kylar could see the man's body relax just the slightest. "I'm sure it's merely the light or lack thereof, but thank you."

Kylar nodded.

"But," the tiniest hint of urgency laced Varese's voice. "As much as I enjoy your company, William, you've caught me at a bad time. I'm leaving on urgent business and won't be back for at least a month. You understand."

The excuse was more than enough for the wetboy to play along. "That's why I came." He walked forward until he was no more than a few inches from his target. "I wanted to surprise you before you left. Your guards said you wouldn't mind." And just to spice up his little excuse, Kylar put on his most innocent, but apprehensive smile. He had seen women give men the same face and send them panting after them like wild dogs; maybe it would work for him.

It didn't come as much of a surprise when it did indeed prove effective.

Varese gratefully closed the distance between them, gripping Kylar's hips rather roughly, to the wetboy's dismay. Nevertheless, he never broke his façade, needing Varese to drop his guard completely. Kylar gasped and pretended to be taken aback by Varese's overconfident move.

"I don't mind it in the least." Varese snaked his arm around to Kylar's lower back and pulled him flush against him. "This will be a nice parting gift."

He forced the wetboy to look at him; their eyes connecting for an instant in the rapidly darkening chamber. But when the elder man moved to kiss him, Kylar held a finger between them. He forced a mischievous smirk.

"Not there." He purred. "Not yet."

Varese straightened, an eyebrow raised humorously. "If that's how you want it."

Hiding his true intentions behind an impish air, the wetboy took one of the man's hands on his waist in his own. He tugged at it playfully. "Yes. If you work for it, it'll be worth more."

Inwardly he rolled his eyes at the man's actions. Kylar was getting most of his material from what he had heard women in Momma K's brothel tell their clients. He remembered scoffing at how desperate they could act, although they could be quite the adversary when they weren't selling themselves. The wetboy would have never believed that he'd have to stoop as low as Azoth once had. His skin prickled at the thought. And to think, Kylar was now repeating Azoth's mistake.

He didn't realize until he landed on something soft that Kylar had been laid over the foot of the bed. Kylar's leather pouch had been untied and thrown into a corner of the room somewhere and he could feel Varese leaning over him. It wasn't long before the wetboy's clothing had been completely removed and discarded, leaving him bare and at the mercy of his prey.

_ _ _

It was long, painful and excruciatingly nostalgic. Every sound, every feeling, every movement brought back horrible memories. Kylar cringed as Varese began to finish with him, trying to keep his senses as William became Kylar and Kylar quickly became Azoth.

"I believe you owe me a kiss." Varese cooed against Kylar's ear as the wetboy collapsed beneath him.

Kylar smirked tiredly and wrapped his arms around Varese's neck for leverage. He placed a chaste kiss on the man's lips, allowing Varese to lick at the place where the Cantarella lingered. "Requiescat in pace," he whispered.

It didn't register in Varese's mind what fate those words had brought upon him. He could feel the exhaustion in his muscles begin to take over and was promptly overwhelmed by sleep. Kylar watched the man slump beside him unconscious before he pulled himself out of the bed. Thoroughly sore, he crossed the floor to retrieve his leather pouch and protruded the tiny needle wrapped in cloth from it before returning back to Varese.

The tiny needle glinted in the dying candlelight as Kylar crawled up next to his prey. It would be quick and painless; the complete opposite of what the wetboy had just been subjected to. Part of him wished he had brought along his half sword and stashed it under the bed, but the thought quickly vanished as he jammed the needle into Varese's wrist. The flickering candle danced across the room as if caught in a breeze and vanished, forever lost in the darkness. It would only be a matter of time before the poison took effect and Kylar could finally return home.

Out of the corner of Kylar's eye, he thought he saw a wisp of white, like a ghost, pass by the window. He instantly became alert, searching, listening, and waiting for whoever had surely witnessed the spectacle to show themselves. It wasn't long before the entity emerged; white against the black of night.

"Ezio," Kylar breathed.

At first, the silence was deafening. The elder assassin only stared down at Kylar, an expression half of irritation and half of something the wetboy didn't quite understand on his features. Anxious for the other man to say something, Kylar pulled himself off the bed and stood in front of him.

"If you have something to say then say it." His ice-blue eyes narrowed in the darkness.

Ezio met the younger's gaze before he spoke. His usually soothing voice came out in a cold hiss. "Do you realize how much danger you put yourself in tonight?"

Kylar straightened defensively. "I did what I had to. I don't need the lecture."

A low growl made the wetboy feel uneasy. Was Ezio really that mad; and for what reason? Kylar could feel the frustration and anger start to boil beneath his skin. He wanted answers. He wanted to know why Ezio was so persistent in pointing out Kylar's flaws. The fact of the matter was that Varese was dead; the job was done, so why linger on what could have been?

Kylar stood his ground, preparing for a venomous reply.

In front of him he could hear the rustle of heavy fabric and what sounded like a miniscule latch being undone. He shifted and focused on the elder assassin's movements. The cape that draped over one of Ezio's shoulders was now in his hands and he stepped around Kylar in one fluid movement. The wetboy's first reaction was to move away, but his feet were frozen in place, his heart pounded in his chest. Ezio noticed the younger's dilemma and smirked despite being sore with the boy. He wrapped the cloak around Kylar's shoulders and spun him around to face him.

"Be a little more modest." Ezio said.

Kylar's cheeks began to burn as he remembered his lack of clothing. He also took note that he should probably take a bath once he got back to his room at the inn. He _hmph_-ed indignantly as he pulled the material tighter around his body which earned a soft chuckle from the elder man standing in front of him.

"We should be going." The assassin replied before hoisting Kylar up into his arms.

"What the-!" Kylar hissed, fighting to get down. "I have legs you know! Put me down!"

Ezio unlatched the door and turned the handle unfazed. "You won't get three houses in your condition." And with that, the conversation was over.


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:** Yey! Finally, I have finished. : ) Sorry it took so long to add the 4th chapter. Writer's block is a bitch. I also just finished reading The Way of Shadows and have been going around the house for a half hour saying "Unholy crap! I did NOT see that coming!" O_e Lol. That ending tops all the story twists I have read so far. All I have to say is, wow. Haha. Anywho, I made a lemon to try to make it up for the long wait. Goda dell'amore! 8D

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Ch. 4

The bath water slowly soothed away all of Kylar's aches and pains. He hadn't been too enthused when Ezio had persuaded him that the once steaming liquid would relax him, but now the wetboy had to admit that he felt much better. As the water had cooled down to relaxing warmth, Kylar had felt a good portion of his muscles begin to loosen up. He almost felt as if he could sleep here.

He absentmindedly reached for the washcloth that Ezio had set on the rim of the tub, but was only met with cool porcelain. Maybe it had fallen on the floor. The wetboy looked over the side of the tub, but saw no sign of it.

"Are you looking for this?"

Kylar whirled around and came face to face with the elder assassin. His white assassin's attire had been replaced by a black pair of slacks and a simple button-down shirt beneath an expensive looking vest while his long black hair was pulled back into a loose plait.

Kylar's eyes narrowed at the man's obligatory smirk, extending an expectant hand. "Yeah, so give it back."

To Kylar's surprise, Ezio simply placed the wash cloth into the palm of his hand and stood. A confused expression spread across the wetboy's face which Ezio caught.

"Don't think too much into it." He told Kylar, putting on a confident air. "I only came in here to see you naked."

Kylar blushed profusely before splashing the man with a wall of water. "Get out you pervert!"

But Ezio put up a finger, the hint of a smirk again tugging at the corners of his lips. Purposefully, the elder assassin removed his vest, unbuttoned his shirt and let them fall to the floor before moving to work at his belt. Kylar's eyes widened, his heart thudded in his chest and he could feel the burning in his cheeks return tenfold.

"W—what are you doing?" He choked.

"What does it look like?" Ezio replied, stepping out of his pants. "It is a waste of water to take two baths."

Kylar narrowed his eyes despite his embarrassment. "Somehow I highly doubt that's the case."

As the elder assassin slipped into the tub opposite the wetboy, Kylar tried his best to move out of the man's way without being too conspicuous. But Ezio had other plans. He sat amused for a moment as he watched the deep red tinge overtake the young man's face as he tried to keep his distance. It was too cute for him to put into words and he wanted to see more.

It took Kylar completely by surprise when Ezio took a firm hold of his legs and pulled him into his lap. The young wetboy's heart caught in his throat as the elder assassin pulled him into his arms and nuzzled the nape of the young man's neck seductively. A shiver ran through Kylar's body and he tensed.

"Sei molto bello.*" The elder assassin spoke softly, placing a feather-light kiss on Kylar's neck earning a soft moan from the young wetboy.

In the attempt to hide his embarrassment, Kylar tightly closed his eyes and rested his head against Ezio's tanned chest. He couldn't help but remember all the times he had thought about the assassin; about how he would catch himself in daydreams of being embraced by the Italian's strong arms. Now that it was actually happening, the wetboy didn't know how to react and he silently cursed himself for acting so terrified in front of the man. However, the words of Durzo Blint suddenly came whirling into his head, distracting his current thoughts.

"_Relationships are ropes. Love is a noose."_

As Ezio placed a hand beneath Kylar's chin and guided his face upwards, the young wetboy threw out a hand and clamped it over the assassin's ever advancing mouth.

"This is bad." Kylar squeaked. "Relationships are ropes that will only distract us from our work."

He watched as Ezio's eyes narrowed and his hand gripped Kylar's own, gently peeling it from his mouth only to kiss the palm sweetly.

"Do you believe that?" Ezio had half expected that the younger would refuse his advances, though he had no intentions of giving in to the boy's protests. It was obvious that the wetboy held deep feelings for the older assassin, but something inside the young man refused to allow him the pleasure of it.

Kylar hesitated and mentally kicked himself for doing so. "Of course," he said a little unsure under that man's scrutinizing gaze. "Love is a weakness that our enemies will use against us."

Ezio wasn't convinced. The way Kylar sat there and said these things sounded as if he were reading a script. Again, he captured the younger's chin in hand, allowing their eyes to connect before he spoke. "Who told you that?"

"My master; Durzo Blint,"

Ezio nodded. It was just as expected. Someone had instilled ideals into the young wetboy's mind that he didn't much care for. Sure, he understood why this Durzo Blint guy might see things that way, but Ezio was too stubborn to skim only the surface of the idea. He smiled at Kylar.

"Durzo Blint is a fool." He said softly, running his freehand below the water to the small of Kylar's back. "You and I are not held by his ideals. Neither of us is weak. Both of us are regarded as the highest of predators. Neither of us will succumb to the enemies' tricks because we both hold the power to fight back."

Kylar had never thought of it that way before. But neither had he, in his wildest dreams thought that he would one day fall in love with an assassin. Sure, an assassin did not share the same strengths as a wetboy with the Talent, but the way Ezio spoke so confidently, Kylar couldn't help but to succumb to the man's words.

Slowly, as if to test his boundaries, Kylar moved his arms up to wrap around Ezio's neck. The elder assassin watched with a hint of amusement in his eyes at how uncertain the wetboy was. It was a complete contrast to the way he had dealt with his target. Yes. Ezio had seen everything, yet turned away when Varese bedded the boy. He refused to see such a sight and somehow it hurt his heart to think that Kylar was capable of doing something like that without batting an eye if it came to it.

Ezio held the wetboy close and placed gentle kisses along his neck and shoulder. He would not think about the pains Kylar had gone through, for what he guessed, his whole life. He would not ruin the mood when the younger man was attempting to do things right.

"Ezio," Kylar met the assassin's vacant gaze. He could sense that something was wrong just by the tiny shift in the man's heartbeat. Ezio locked eyes with Kylar for a moment, no longer off in the world he had wandered into.

"I apologize for thinking you would get yourself killed going after your target." It was sincere, but Kylar didn't like where the conversation was going.

The wetboy focused on Ezio's chest, not wanting to look the man in the eye. "I know more than people think." He told him, voice a pained whisper. "More than I'll ever admit."

Above him, the assassin nodded his understanding before enveloping the younger man in a strong embrace. "You will tell me in time. Lei vale la mia pazienza.*"

Kylar's heart melted at the man's native tongue as the warmth from those foreign words ghosted over his damp skin. He loved when the assassin spoke to him in his native tongue. He sighed, albeit a little shaken as he allowed Ezio to kiss the crook of his neck, the soft yet firm pressure of his lips creating goose bumps all over his body. The assassin smirked beside himself as he moved to capture the wetboy's mouth with his own and easily slipped his tongue past his lips. Kylar moaned softly as he kissed Ezio back, initially giving in altogether as he allowed the assassin to explore the wet cavern. Finally, when air was much needed Ezio pulled away and brushed some damp strands of blonde from the younger wetboy's face. He couldn't help but smirk at Kylar's flushed features.

"What?" Kylar asked, confused.

Ezio merely chuckled. "Sei molto bello." He spoke softly into Kylar's ear just as he had earlier. "I want to do things right."

Before Kylar could ask what he meant, Ezio climbed out of the bath, picking the wetboy up bridal style in his strong arms. Kylar squeaked in surprise as he was lifted out of the water.

"Wha—hey wait! What are you doing?" He protested as he was carried out of the bathroom and down a small corridor.

Ezio wasted no time in entering a room to the left where he laid the wetboy down on a bed and took his place above him. He gently caressed Kylar's stunned features with the back of his hand and smirked.

"I want to make love to you." His voice was sincere as he cooed in Kylar's ear. "We will do it right."

The blush that entered Kylar's face would have made a tomato look pink. He tried to cover his obvious embarrassment with his right arm, but the elder assassin peeled the limb away. Ezio pulled the arm up and planted a light kiss on the wetboy's extended palm, reveling in the way Kylar squirmed at the contact. It was really very cute. In this state, it was hard to believe the young wetboy was a killer.

Kylar could feel the man above him staring at him. It made him self-conscious. There was however something that he had wanted to tell the assassin and in the heavy silence he figured it was as good a time as any. It just didn't feel right to keep such a secret from Ezio, especially when they were about to take such a huge step in their relationship. Sure, the two had never even dated or even known each other for long enough to call it a true relationship, but the bond they shared was deeper than any other pair of lovers could fathom. Death surrounded them in an ever growing embrace, but somehow both assassin and wetboy found a way to keep what sanity they had and survive. It was a dark life to live in the shadows. It wasn't a life that many could bear.

"Ezio," Kylar looked at the elder assassin. A hint of apprehension reflected in his light blue eyes. "There's something important I need to tell you." He let his attention fall on a small wooden bureau against the far wall of the room.

Ezio pet the boy's cheek. "I don't know how much longer I can hold out, Kylar." The frustration that laced the assassin's voice was meant to be both a hint and humourous, but he smiled nonetheless. "What is it you want to tell me?" He leant down and trailed feather light kisses from Kylar's collarbone down his chest, tasting the remaining bathwater on his flawless skin, as he allowed the wetboy's strangled reply.

"My name," he panted softly, "Master Blint chose to call me Kylar. But," A soft moan escaped him as Ezio planted a kiss at his navel.

"But," Ezio prodded to show he was still listening.

Kylar gulped as he felt the assassin grip his thigh possessively, but forced himself to continue. "But Kylar Stern isn't my real name." He bit back another moan as Ezio took hold of his other leg and lifted them both up onto his shoulders for better leverage. The assassin reveled in the fact at how sensitive the wetboy was.

"Then what is your real name?"

"It's—Azoth."

Above him, Ezio halted his ministrations and repeated the name; letting the syllables role off his tongue in the accent that sent the butterflies in the wetboy's stomach into a whirl of chaos.

Ezio smiled and placed a chaste kiss onto Azoth's lips. "Allora quello è che cosa gli denominerò—Azoth.*"

For some reason, letting the assassin know his real name had felt right. Maybe there was something inside him that felt the need to tell Ezio that truth. _Call me a romantic._ The wetboy knew better than to allow his past to catch up with him. He had rid himself of that name so long ago. But he supposed, of all the people who knew him and had called him by his real name, he wanted to hear it spoken from the elder assassin in that alluring accent. Maybe he had become a fool.

Azoth almost didn't notice through his slight daze when Ezio held up three fingers to the wetboy's mouth. He blue eyes squinted in confusion. Ezio smirked and touched the fingertips the boy's lips encouragingly. When it hit him what the assassin wanted him to do, Azoth opened his mouth to allow the digits to slip inside. For a moment, Azoth savoured the salty taste as he ran his tongue over the fingers before Ezio pulled them out, replacing them with his tongue in a very distracting kiss.

He yelped into the elder assassin's mouth as he felt something penetrate him. His breath caught in his throat as he tried instinctually to ignore the sleight pain, gripping the white bed sheets until his knuckles matched in colour.

Ezio moved to nip reassuringly as Azoth's ear. "There is nothing to be afraid of Azoth." He breathed. He then latched onto the wetboy's neck and bit down just enough to deter his attention away from the lower stinging. Azoth gasped and Ezio took his chance to insert another finger into the young wetboy. "Relax. If you don't, it will only hurt more. Just relax Azoth."

That's right. He had to relax. He had forget about the present, the past, everything. It wasn't like he had no experience. He had plenty. But he had never done it like this; never been given the choice or the reassurance that things would be okay.

As Ezio inserted a third and final finger, Azoth felt his back arch off the bed. A guttural moan escaped him. It wasn't too loud, but it was certainly loud enough to please the assassin to blame for such an action. The assassin began scissoring his fingers in answer to the wetboy's moan and found a new place on Azoth's neck to generate a second bruise.

_"I want to do things right."_

Azoth soon felt the elder assassin remove his slickened digits and trail wet, hot kisses down his chest to his navel. The young wetboy couldn't stop the needy mewl that escaped him as Ezio gripped hold of his weeping member and began pumping it slowly. Again, Azoth moaned softly, shutting his eyes and holding tighter to the man above him.

"Ezio," he breathed helplessly.

Ezio smiled that intoxicating smirk that was notorious for sending girls into a flushing flurry. "Easy, amore mio," he said. Avrete a me abbastanza presto.*"

He had wanted to wait; to make things perfect, but as Ezio looked down upon the younger wetboy he found it harder and harder to keep his control. Decidedly, he gave into his shattering willpower and laced his freehand with one of Azoth's which where wound around his neck. He kissed the boy.

Azoth knew what was coming. His heart raced as he kissed Ezio back rather sloppily. He was so nervous that when he went to kiss the assassin back for the second time his lips hit the side of the man's mouth. Above him Ezio chuckled, earning a dazed pout from the young man beneath him.

"I tend to have that effect on people." The assassin snorted softly. He again adjusted Azoth's legs over his shoulders and positioned himself as the wetboy's entrance. He hated that he wouldn't be able to make it easier since he didn't have any lubrication. Apologetically, he leant forward and placed a kiss on his soon to be lover's forehead. "This will only hurt for a minute." He promised. "You will have to bear with it."

Azoth gritted his teeth, waiting for what was to come. "This is nothing compared to what I've had to endure. I'll live."

Nodding his understanding, Ezio carefully pushed inside of Azoth, burying himself to his hilt. The wetboy cried out, every muscle in his body tensing automatically at the searing pain. He had barely had enough time to recover from Varese's treatment and now Azoth felt his insides being stretched to their limits by Ezio's even larger endowment. His chest heaved as he reminded himself to relax; his legs tightened around the older man's shoulders and he took in a sharp intake of air as he felt his own needy member being attended by one of Ezio's skilled hands.

"I'm all the way in." He crooned into Azoth's ear before kissing the lobe tenderly. "You're so tight Azoth."

Finding a small part of his snarky side beneath the haze he had fallen into, Azoth replied, "I'm not tight." He grit out. "You're just too big."

"Grazie for the compliment," Ezio smirked.

He watched in adoring amusement as the blush on Azoth's face deepened and the wetboy screwed his eyes shut out of pure embarrassment. It made his length throb in anticipation and slowly began to pull out of the younger man, only to thrust back into the tight entrance, earning a deliciously loud mewl from Azoth. He savoured the image of how the wetboy looked as he arched his back, bruised lips parted, panting as the assassin drove into the lithe body repeatedly. It only took moments before they both fell into rhythm, both assassin and wetboy becoming lost in their need for one another.

Azoth felt himself on the brink and panted heavily. "I'm so close--" He groaned as Ezio continued to hit that little bundle of nerves inside of him that kept bringing him back to that blissful state of being. "I feel like—I'm gonna fall--"Ezio kissed him passionately as he pressed his thumb over Azoth's leaking tip.

"Fall; I will catch you."

Azoth felt his muscles spasm and his back arched off the bed as he released himself onto both him and Ezio, crying out the other's name desperately. He allowed himself to collapse just as Ezio followed close behind, spilling his seed deep inside his new lover. The older assassin pulled out earning a disapproved moan and rolled off of Azoth to rest beside him. Without missing a beat, he enveloped the young wetboy into his strong arms and kissed the young man's shoulder as they settled in for the remainder of the night.

The wetboy sighed content, loving the comforting warmth embracing him from behind and closed his eyes.

"Ti voglio bene.*" Ezio whispered, pulling Azoth as close as he could. "Remember that despite what others may say."

Azoth nodded and smiled. "Ti voglio bene." He repeated. But somehow it just didn't sound right when we said it the way Ezio had. He grimaced when he heard Ezio's low chuckle. "What?" He demanded the Italian tiredly.

The assassin smirked against the wetboy's back. "I love it when you speak that way to me."

Azoth blushed deep red again. The assassin had taken the words right out of his mouth and had used them against him. But he suppressed the urge to smack the older man on the back of the head and closed his eyes, drifting off to a sleep without nightmares.

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A/N: First of all, sorry for my bad Italian. *sweatdrop* Good ending? Bad ending? Let me know, but be gentle. : ) Sorry again for the loooong wait. I hope this kinda' makes up for it. I'll be working on some other Ezio x Kylar fics real soon. One of which is AU. Haha. Just for fun. So keep an eye out. ; ) Much more assassin x wetboy lovinz on the way.

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Translations:

Sei molto bello – You are very handsome

Lei vale la mia pazienza – You are worth my patience.

Allora quello è che cosa gli denominerò—Azoth. - Then that is what I will call you—Azoth

Avrete a me abbastanza presto – You will have me soon enough

Ti voglio bene – I love you


End file.
